Page 5 of Bride By Committee

“It was a little hard not to. You were speaking out loud.” She heard the rustle of clothing and guessed he’d removed his suit jacket. Another silky whisper warned that his tie had followed. “If you think the book is so bad, why did you buy it?”

He had a delicious voice. Rich. Dark. Appealing. If their circumstances had been different, she wouldn’t have minded listening to it for a while. “I didn’t buy it. It was a gift. And I’m reading it because I’m curious to find out what all the talk is about. I’m also curious—or perhaps concerned would be more accurate—because my grandmother has bought into the premise. Did I explain how impractical my family is?”

“I seem to recall you mentioning it. How far have you gotten in the book?”

“I read the first three pages.”

He chuckled, adeep rolling sound that provoked an actual tactile sensation. “I gather from the way you say that, that you were less than impressed. Are you sure reading three pages is sufficient to form an objective opinion about the entire book?”

“It didn’t take much more than a single page.”

“And what, in particular, is wrong with it?”

Madison tilted her head against the wall and felt the knot in the pit of her stomach slowly unclench. Talking was proving beneficial, thank goodness. Or maybe it was Harry. He seemed to have a reassuring way abouthim.

“Where should I begin? There’s so much material to choose from.” She considered some of the choicer tidbits. “Okay. How about this one? The first time you set eyes on your potential mate there should be an instant chemical reaction. No chemistry, no mating! Tell me, Harry. How do you suppose that’s determined? And what sort of chemical reaction does this Bartholomew Jones mean? When I see an interesting man am I supposed to check my pulse, blood pressure and temperature to see if there’s some sort of biological or chemical response?”

“Too clinical?”

“Oh, it’s not that.” If that were the only criteria, Harry would qualify as provoking a chemical reaction. He might be an average sort of man, but he’d gone out of his way to calm her fears and distract her with conversation. He couldn’t help it if she found his voice intensely appealing any more than she could help it that her nervous system had gone out of whack. “It’s simply impractical.”

“I gather being practical is important to you?”

“Vital.” Perhaps that was why she found her claustrophobia so unsettling. It stripped away all she held most dear and forced her to deal with emotions she was ill-equipped to handle.

“Does that mean that you find love an impractical emotion? Or are all emotions impractical?”

“Uncontrolled emotions are impractical,” she corrected. As for love… “I believe in love. Ijust have trouble with romantic nonsense like love at first sight.”

Harry remained silent for a long moment. Then he said, “Tell me how you think love should work.”

As she considered how best to answer him, the strangeness of their situation struck her. How odd to be conducting such an intimate conversation with a perfect stranger. Perhaps the darkness encouraged the sharing of confidences. Or perhaps the manner in which Harry had tried to allay her fears had made the difference. Whatever the cause, she couldn’t remember ever having such a frank discussion with a man before, nor enjoying a conversation so thoroughly. Even her claustrophobia had eased, subsiding to a faint apprehension.

“First of all,” she began, “love shouldn’t consist of a list of ten fundamental rules published in some silly book written so the author can make a fortune off TV appearances. It’s disgraceful. His target audience consists of naive, gullible women, desperate for love, seduced by a good-looking pitchman making promises he can’t possibly fulfill.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. If the book is wrong, how should love work?”

She wished she could see Harry’s face. Asteely thread underscored his voice and she didn’t understand what had prompted it. Men named Harry shouldn’t have so much as a hint of steel anywhere about them. They should be puppy dog friendly, woolly lamb innocuous, and kind to terrified women. If he didn’t shape up soon, she’d be forced to hammer that point home in no uncertain terms.

“Love should be something that’s built over time,” she explained. “There should be a solid basis between the individuals, founded on mutual trust, admiration, and compatibility.”

“It sounds like you’ve come up with your own principles.”

He wasn’t far wrong. “I may have given it some thought,” she admitted.

Maybe more than a little thought. After all, hadn’t she devised a blueprint for the perfect man, the sort of individual she could love with every fiber of her being? It was a theme quite dear to her heart, if one she kept secret from the rest of her family. And yet, she felt comfortable expanding on it with a total stranger. How peculiar.

“As I was saying,” she tried again. “Love should be founded on mutual trust, admiration, and compatibility. This compatibility should cover emotional affection, intellectual suitability, and a general respect. And admiration, rather than love, is important because—”

“You’ve never been in love, have you?”

That stung. “I’ve never found the type of love that book describes, no. But then, Idon’t really believe it exists. Ithink Mr. Jones is describing lust or infatuation or, most likely, wishful thinking.”

“If you’ve never known love at first sight, how can you arbitrarily deny its existence?”

“Personal observation.”

“Combined with that practical nature, no doubt.”

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